Boathouse Bonds
by Lost By Words
Summary: "Don't touch yourself. I want you frustrated." It seems Ana has a difficult time obeying that little rule. Takes place during Chapter 20 of Book One. (Two-Shot)
1. Part 1

_AN: Well, I am new here, and I only wrote this because it was just something that I felt like very well could have happened while reading book one. In fact, I was curious to see how it would play out. So, thus, I created this. _

_It takes place in the middle of Chapter 20 of _Fifty Shades of Grey_. I took a section from the book, cut some things out and reworked it in order to fit along with what I had in mind. Hope that is okay…well, it's fan fiction, right? Next chapter will be all of my own. This one is just a set up._

_This will only be a two shot…unless I feel it needs to be longer…but…two-shot for now. And I don't know if I plan on keeping it up forever. But I really just wanted to write it to see what would happen. The more I kept writing, the more I realized how abusive Grey actually is. He is really a domineering person. And so…I don't condone everything, but again, I wanted to study it to see how this scenario would play out. It is also consensual on Ana's part. We can call it a character study, per say. I personally, don't agree with anything I'm writing…but I guess that leads to a whole other discussion I don't feel like getting into. _

_But, you know, maybe you will enjoy it? Who even knows._

_Well, I don't own anything. But I am, though, curious to see what you all think..._

* * *

><p><span>Boathouse Bonds<br>Part 1

* * *

><p>Christian bursts through the wooden door of the boathouse and pauses to flick on some lights. Fluorescents ping and buzz in sequence as harsh white light floods the large wooden building. From my upside-down view, I can see an impressive motor launch in the dock floating gently on the dark water, but I only get a brief look before he's carrying me up some wooden stairs to the room above.<p>

He pauses at the doorway and touches another switch – halogens this time, they are softer, on a dimmer – and we're in an attic room with sloping ceilings and beams cascading across. It's decorated with a nautical New England theme: navy blues and creams with a dash of red. The furnishings are sparse, just a couple of couches and a desk are all I can see.

Christian sets me to my feet on the wooden floor. I don't have time to examine my surroundings – my eyes can't leave him.

His breathing is harsh but then again, he's just carried me across the lawn and up a flight of stairs. He reaches around and closes the door behind us. We stand in front of each other now, both staring at each other as if our gazes are locked permanently.

I could spontaneously combust from his look alone. His intense gaze bores into me, staring straight at me. I gulp, hoping he can't hear.

"Please don't hit me," I whisper, pleading.

His brow furrows, eyes widening, but he continues staring at me.

"I don't want you to spank me, not here, not now. Please don't." My voice is coming out hoarse and I'm trying my best to sound confident.

His mouth drops open slightly in surprise, and beyond brave, I tentatively reach up and run my fingers down his cheek, along the edge of his sideburn, to the stubble on his chin. It's a satiable mixture of soft and prickly. I watch his eyes close. I know he's enjoying my sensual touch and for a moment, I think he's mine. I know I have him. My lips touch his in a soft and tantalizing kiss.

His soft moan is barely audible, and when he opens his eyes, his look is – wary, like he doesn't understand what I'm doing.

"What are you doing to me, Ana?" he whispers confused.

"Kissing you."

"You said no."

"What?" No to what?

"At the dinner table, with your legs."

_Oh…that's what this is all about._

"But we were at your parents' dining table." I stare up at him, completely bewildered.

"No one's ever said no to me before. And it's so – hot." He takes in a deep breath before continuing, as if trying to keep his emotions in check. But his eyes widen slightly, filled with wonder and lust. It's a heady mix and I can't help but swallow instinctively. His hand moves down to my behind as he pulls me sharply against him. I can feel his erection and my pulse begins to race.

"You're mad and turned on because I said _no_?" I say, astonished. Astonished partly because that can happen to him and partly because I had the nerve to question him.

"I'm mad because you never mentioned Georgia to me. I'm mad because you went drinking with that guy who tried to seduce you when you were drunk and who left you when you were ill with an almost complete stranger. What kind of friend does that? And I'm mad and aroused because you closed your legs on me." His eyes shift a shade darker and now I know what's coming, but I don't know how. My insides clench as his stare intensifies, eyes glittering dangerously. Slowly, he's inching up the hem of my dress.

"I want you," he continues, "and I want you now. And if you're not going to let me spank you – which you deserve – I'm going to fuck you on the couch this minute, quickly, for my pleasure, not yours."

My dress is now barely covering my naked behind. He moves suddenly so that his hand is cupping my sex, and one of his fingers sinks leisurely into me. His other arm holds me firmly in place around my waist. I quell my moan but my mouth parts slightly.

Suddenly, his hands push me back and down, so I'm sprawled out on the length of the couch, his hands never leaving from inside me. I can barely make sense of anything with my own arousal building. I don't know how he does it, but somehow he does and I am always in complete awe of him. Soon, my dress is bunched up around my midsection and I am completely open to him from the waist down. "This is mine," he whispers aggressively and I finally moan in appreciation of his fingers. "All mine. Do you understand?" He eases his finger in and out as he gazes down at me, gauging my reaction, his eyes burning.

"Yes, yours," I choke out. My eyes are fluttering, and I'm trying hard to not give into the pleasure of him. My desire is pooling, hot and heavy, as it surges through my bloodstream, affecting every inch of me…my nerve endings, my breathing… My heart is pounding, trying to leave my chest, and the blood continues to thrum in my ears.

Abruptly, he moves, doing several things at once. Withdrawing his fingers, leaving me wanting, unzipping his fly, and settling above me.

"Hands on your head," he commands gruffly as he kneels up, forcing my legs wider, and reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket. He takes out a familiar silver packet, gazing down at me with moonless eyes, before shrugging off his jacket so it falls to the floor.

I place my hands on my head, and I know it's so I won't touch him. But it doesn't make a difference to me at this point, I'm so turned on.

I feel my hips moving already up to meet him - wanting him inside me - rough and hard. I can barely see through my own flickering eyes, but I don't miss him roll the condom down over his impressive length.

"We don't have long. This will be quick, and it's for me, not you. Do you understand? Don't come, or I will spank you," he says through clenched teeth.

_Holy crap…how do I stop?_

My mind is whirlwind, going on overload. I don't know what I'm supposed to do, I don't know how to control myself as he wishes. But I groan loudly, gutturally, ignoring the thoughts and reveling in the fullness of him inside me. He puts his hands over mine on top of my head, his elbows hold my arms out and down, and his legs immobilize me.

It feels like I am trapped. He's everywhere, overwhelming me, almost suffocating. But it's a heavenly feeling too. This is my power, this is what I do to him, and it's a hedonistic, triumphant feeling. He moves quickly and furiously inside me. His breath becomes ragged and he groans loudly in my ear. I can hear nothing besides him and I don't seem to mind.

My body responds anyway, melting around him. But no, I mustn't come. I can't. Still, I'm meeting him thrust for thrust, a perfect counterpoint. Abruptly, and all too soon, he rams into me and stills as he finds his release, air hissing from between his clenched teeth.

He relaxes momentarily, so I feel his entire weight on me. I'm not ready to let him go, my body craving relief, but he's so heavy, and in that moment, I can't hold him to me. He withdraws, much to my displeasure, leaving me aching and hungry for more.

He glowers down at me. "Don't touch yourself. I want you frustrated. That's what you do to me by not talking to me, by denying me what's mine."

Christian is off of me in an instant and a rush of cool air hits my lower half. Quickly, I close my legs, trying hard to abate the ache in my groin. But it's difficult, I'm aching and needing of him. I want that heavenly feeling to come for me, I want to be taken prisoner by it, lost to its control just for a breath.

He does up his pants zipper, running his hand through his hair as he reaches down to collect his jacket. I can see him take a walk over to the desk by the window. He slams his hands on it, leaning down and staring out into the blackness of night. There is something weighing on him, but I'm too preoccupied to even ask. He's paying no attention to me as I continually try shifting on the couch and rubbing my thighs together in a vain attempt to lessen this ache.

This frustration is killing me. This, in itself, is the worse form of torture imaginable. I just need a release, just for a moment. It won't take long, I can feel myself still dripping and still wanting of it. I know I'm not supposed to. I know he will be mad if he catches me. But that's only _if_ he catches me.

If I could just...

My eyes dart swiftly to Christian, making sure he's not watching. Carefully, I let my fingers trail over my opening and I jerk back at even the slightest touch. My heart rate is increasing and I know I need to stay silent. But I can do this, right? I can have my release without him knowing, right? My fingers will work fine too, right?

I can do this.

I begin by circling my index finger around my folds and running them up and down. I bit my lip to keep from moaning. But I can't even take teasing myself much longer so I easily slide in my middle finger. It's not the same, but it will have to do. My fingers are much too skinny and I'm not nearly getting the reaction from myself that I want.

I slide my finger in and out, increasing my silent tempo. I clench my teeth, suppressing a moan and look over at Christian again. He is still standing with his back to me, looking like he is lost in thought. I remember him saying we didn't have much time, but suddenly, I don't even seem to care.

I can feel myself building, this is what I want, this is what I need. But I'm not quite there yet, so I insert my ring finger as well. To my surprise, it fits in snugly, with room to spare.

This is better...

Now with the increased sensation, I speed up my tempo, not hitting in deep enough, but as far as my fingers can stretch. My whole hand is wet, sliding delectably in and out. My hips jerk up suddenly and my ankle is quivering. I feel my walls clench around my fingers and I can't help but wonder if this is what it feels like for Christian. Is this what he feels?

I shut my eyes tightly, letting complete darkness engulf me and letting myself fall away. I can't help the whimpers that come even as hard as I try to keep from making a sound. My staccato breaths pierce the tranquility of the room. But I am lost in my own paradise. I can't make my hands keep working and so I ride out the feeling until it gently drops me back to earth.

My eyes snap open as I feel a rough hand encircle my wrist, digging nails into my flesh, and yank my own fingers from inside of me.

Oh crap...


	2. Part 2

_A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews, favorites and follows! I'm sorry to keep you waiting…but my life is always hectic. So, I don't know if it's worth it, but when yu get to the end, let me know if you'd like one more chapter or not. I'm not sure if I should just end it here or add another. _

_Thank you all again, and I just hope this does the original work some justice…ehhh…we'll see I guess._

* * *

><p><span>Boathouse Bonds<br>Part 2

* * *

><p>He's glaring down at me in a look that could slit my throat if he wanted to. He has yet to release his grasp on my wrist and slowly his hand squeezes tighter around it, feeling like he's going to leave a bruise there by tomorrow. He has yet to say anything and I'm too in shock to say something first.<p>

I knew this was a bad idea. Why did I let myself talk me into this?

"I. Told. You. _Not_. To. Touch. Yourself." His voice is low, domineering and frigid. I'm frozen in place, being held by my fear.

I gulp, loudly this time, and I don't care if he heard me. "A-are...you mad?" I squeak out, somehow even managing to find a voice.

His lips curl upwards and his other hand gently traces down the contour of my face. I repress a shiver at his icy but fiery touch. If even possible, I feel him press my wrist tighter, tight enough to snap it with one wrong move. "Oh Miss Steele, fury does not even cover what I am feeling right now."

"I'm sorry..." I acquiesce, "I didn't mean to - "

"You didn't _mean_ to? Tell me then, what did you _mean_ to do?"

"I-I...I - "

"Hmm? I'm waiting for an answer."

"Please don't spank me..." Those are the only words that come to my head in this moment. It is the only thing I can think to say and suddenly, I regret even those words.

His eyes soften a fraction and his grip on my still wet hand loosens. He lets go abruptly and stands up straight. Instantly, I begin rubbing some feeling back into my wrist. "Then what should I do with you since you clearly disobeyed me?"

My eyes search the ground for answers, but I'm stuck for one to give. "I don't know." And like magic, I feel a drip slide down my thigh. How is it even possible to be turned on by his anger? But maybe it's knowing what's to come that's exciting me? My heart is pounding and even in the midst of my fear, I feel a weird boldness.

"My palm is twitching and I fear I can't keep it still much longer." He lifts his gaze to mine. "Do you have any idea how much you have hurt me tonight?"

My heart sinks. I didn't have any idea. Hurt him? I wasn't trying...I didn't deliberately... "How have I hurt you?" I whisper timidly, afraid of even the words themselves.

Christian laughs, running his hand over his mouth. For a moment, I feel better, pretending that maybe everything is okay, but I know surely it's not. I know for certain that I am in more trouble than I have even been before in my life. "God, Ana...want me to write up a list?" I stay quiet, deciding that it's a rhetorical question. "First it was Georgia, next it was that so-called friend of yours, then you refused me at the dinner table. And now! Now I find you touching yourself after I told you I wanted you frustrated. _And_! You won't even let me punish you for it. What the hell am I supposed to do with you? I don't think I can take anymore..."

He is staring down at me in a look of pure exasperation, pure agony, and pure hurt. The guilt swarms in the depths of my stomach and I finally see how much I've pained him. I've only thought about myself, I've only wanted my own gratification, I never even considered what it would do to him.

Suddenly my boldness wanes away and I realize how much I need to make this up to him. The guilt hurts too much to let this go on...but what am I suppose to do? Let him spank me? Let him punish me the way he wants?

But maybe, perhaps there is a way to make this pleasurable for both of us? Perhaps I could take a punishment knowing it would make him feel better, but perhaps I could take a punishment on my own terms. Perhaps I could control this...?

He is still glaring at me, waiting for a response, a reaction, something - anything - from me and so, I narrow my eyes lustfully and smirk. His brow furrows as he contemplates my movements. Teasingly slowly, I lift my hand to my mouth and stick in my two middle fingers, still damp from my own juices. I suck on them furiously, hollowing out my cheeks in the process.

I watch his whole face melt as the tight muscles in his expression fall away, being replaced by a look of sheer bliss. "What are you doing to me?" he whispers so lowly, I'm sure he thinks I can't hear him.

In the next second, he is on top of me, yanking my fingers from mouth and placing them in his own. He is all over my hand, licking between the crevices and sucking them off completely, as if trying to savor my taste. His weight presses and holds me down against the couch firmly.

"So...I've been bad?" I question, mocking innocence.

His lips attack mine, sucking anxiously on my bottom lip. "Bad? More like villainous."

I wrap my arms around his neck, securing him to me. I can feel his rigidity press against my thigh and I know I've got him. "So what are you going to do about it?"

He stills, pulling away from me. "What will you let me do?"

I purse my lips before I bit my lower lip. "I'll let you find a punishment fitting the crime."

I can practically see his brain short out and his eyes widen. A devilish smirk crosses his features and a lithe finger brushes over my lip. "Do you trust me?"

My insides clamp together at those familiar words. Every time before he's asked that it's always ended in an orgasm better than the last. How can I not say yes? But then again, do I trust him? How do I know if it will hurt? Will I enjoy it or will it end in tears as the last time it did?

But pushing aside those incessant questions, I force out a breath: "Yes."

Abruptly he stands and in one fluid motion, my dress is above my head and is now lying discarded on the ground. He doesn't touch me, which is torturous, but instead walks around the room looking for something...I'm not sure what.

Finally, his eyes light up and he pulls a bundle of something off a shelf. The smirk is evident in his tone. "There's always rope in a boathouse."

I gulp.

"I-I thought we didn't have the time?"

"Screw time," he growls, leering down at me as he walks closer. "For your errors tonight, Miss Steele, we'll be here until morning if we have to."

I replace my stoic expression with a smirk, tucking my legs underneath me and squirming in anticipation. "What happened to delayed gratification, Mr. Grey?"

He comes closer, ridding the distance between us and trailing sensual fingers up and down my bar arms. "I'll get my gratification whenever the hell I want it." He pauses just as his fingers stop moving. "Take off your bra...slowly."

I can do nothing else but comply. The weight of his words makes my insides churn, dying, aching for my growing need of him. Yet, I'm still curious of what he has in store for me, I just know he won't let me go scotch-free, I know that for each bit of pleasure, there will have to be some pain. But can I handle it? Don't I trust him?

Gracefully, I slide down the unclasped bra from my arms and my newly uncovered skin feels a rush of the cold boathouse air hit it. Christian's gaze still bores into me, and I can't tell if he's pleased or not with me.

Who am I kidding? He's not pleased with me...

In one swift motion, he grabs my wrists, making me gasp, and holds each of them in one hand. Skillfully, he uncoils part of the bundle of rope and begins working it around my wrists.

I shift again at the building ache and the familiar dampness collecting between my thighs. How does he have the power over me like this? I will never be sure of the answer, but I know I can't let him reign in this power forever. I reel my body forward, closing my eyes and landing my lips on his. He is so surprised, he fumbles with the mass of rope still in his hands and desperately tries keeping up with my movements.

But he pulls away, leaving me leaning into him, craving for more. He smiles mischievously. "Flattery will get you nowhere..." he says as he knots off the rope securely. "Stand," he instructs.

I do as I'm told right away and he steps backwards, motioning for me to stay. He drawls out the rope, still holding what's left of the bundle as he walks back a few more feet. Swiftly, he gives a tug on the rope and I lurch forward to which he only smiles. He turns on his heel and begins walking about the room, I can do nothing but follow him - like a dog on a leash. I'm naked, bound by my hands, attached on a rope and following Christian around in the upstairs room of a boathouse. We walk around the perimeter of the room, walking in between the couches, past the desk...

It's embarrassing and I'm feeling my boldness begin to slip from my grasp the longer we trudge about the room. I know he's doing this on purpose, I know he's looking to break my sudden spirit, and for a moment, it's working.

He comes to a halt in the center of the room. "Here." I stop right behind him and he jarringly turns around to face me. "Hands above your head."

I don't get it. If he doesn't want me touching him, my hands are already tied together...why do I also need to raise them?

But anyway, I do as he says, suddenly scared for what is to come. He drops the rope and walks away. I takes a step to follow but he raises up his hand. "Patience," he says, simpering. As he walks further away, he stops at the desk and drags the chair over to me. I'm not sure what he's doing but I watch on in curiousness.

He gathers the rope from the floor and stands up on the chair. Feeling the beam right next to his head, he begins to wrap the end of the rope around it, pulling it taught so my arms are raised pin-straight above me. Even if I stop using my muscles, the rope keeps my arms up. He knots off the rope around the beam and tugs on it. It won't give.

I'm standing comfortably, feet flat on the ground, with my arms raised. I hear his breathy smile as he climbs down the from chair - careful not to touch me on the descent - and stands back a few feet to admire his work.

"Well, well, well...I certainly like you like this, Miss Steele. All trussed up, standing willing...and ready for me. Are you ready?"

I don't answer.

"Perhaps I should see if you are." He takes a step toward me and I shift uncomfortably. His hand reaches out and he is about to touch me when a knock sounds on the wooden door. "Shit..." he mutters.

He gives me one last smirk before he heads to the door.

"Christian? Ana?" the muffled voice comes from beyond the door. There is no mistaking it, it belongs to Mia. She is about to open the door when Christian grabs it and sticks his head through the crack, blocking her view of everything.

"Mom and Dad are wondering where you guys are," Mia says. I'm struggling to hear what she's saying.

"We're a bit busy at the moment. Tell Mom and Dad we'll be there in a little while."

"Busy?" she says as if it's an absurd word. "What do you mean - "

"We're..._busy_," he responds exasperatedly.

There is a pause, the silence invades and suddenly, I can practically hear the light turn on in her head. "Ohhhhhh! _Ohhhhh_! Oh God! I'm sorry! Oh god...umm...okay...right."

Oh great...now Mia thinks Christian and I are having sex in the boathouse. How am I ever going to look at her again after this? 'Oh god' is right.

"So, just tell Mom and Dad, Ana wasn't feeling well after dinner. I just took her up here for some air. We'll join you all again shortly."

"Okay, okay...um...yeah...just, be safe, I guess." I can hear the awkwardness in her voice. I'm never going to live this down. Christian doesn't say anything else but I listen to her feet scurry away as he shuts the door behind him, this time not forsaking to lock it.

He saunters back toward me, the grin growing just as much as the bulge in his pants. "I told you we could screw time."

"I'd much rather you screwed me." And there is my sassy boldness back in full force. I don't know where it came from, but it has Christian stop mid-saunter and double his eyes.

"I won't forget to add respect to the lesson tonight. Now where were we?" he questions mockingly as he stands in front of me. "Ah, yes...your readiness."

His hands envelope each of my hip bones and tug myself closer to him. I lean up to kiss him on any inch of skin I can reach, but he evades me, leaving me dumbfounded.

"Nice try, but I know what you're trying to do."

Oh shit.

I open my mouth to speak but all of a sudden, his hand cups between my legs and his fingers flick my folds. "Soaking wet," he confirms.

I whimper as he pulls his hand away. He only chuckles.

"Now, my little vixen, I'm going to - " He cuts himself off, eyes widening. "Actually, this time, I won't tell you what I'm going to do. Instead, it will be a complete surprise."

My stomach clenches at the thought. I don't even know what to anticipate right now. This is slowly going to kill me.

"But the rules are simple," he continues. He keeps one hand resting on my hip, gently stroking my bone with his thumb, while the other hand is teasingly traveling up my waist - higher and higher. "This time, I'm going to teach you not to disobey me and all the while you are not allowed to speak. The only sound you are allowed to make will be a moan of pleasure. I mean it. No words, no groans, no whimpers, no gasps, no screaming...do I make myself clear?"

"Yes."

Immediately, his fingers pinch my nipple between his nails and I screw my eyes tight in a wave of pain. "What did I just say?" he says upon releasing the soft flesh of my mound.

Holy crap, it was a trick question. I'm panting now, desperately hoping that loud breathing is okay. I nod my head quickly, trying to apologize with my eyes.

"That's a good girl." He smiles and I feel a sense of relief wash over me. "_But_! At any time, safe words are always allowed, you know that, right?" I nod again and he sighs in contentment. "Good." He takes a casual walk around me, as if I'm a tied up prey that he's inspecting - all sense of sincerity now gone and dominant Christian his here in full force. He passes by my front again and stands behind me, breath hot and heavy on my neck. "You've been so bad..." he murmurs into my ear, hands fondling each one of my breasts. "I'm going to have to correct this behavior."

I moan loudly at the exquisite feeling, pushing myself harder into his expert hands.

"You like this, I see." Suddenly, his hands squeeze harder, nails digging into my flesh once again. I want to cry out, I want him to lighten up, but I don't say anything. Instead, I stop moaning, turning my breath harsher.

His hands stop right on cue. I can see him reading my body since my words can't do it for him. But it's time to take control back...I know I can do this.

He drops to his knees still behind me, and his fingers slide down the length of my butt crack. In an instant, I close my legs together, squeezing them tight, shutting him out from right where I knew they were about to travel next.

"Oh Miss Steele, you shouldn't have done that."

Like lightning, he is back on his feet, standing in front of me. My breath is ragged, and I'm so turned on, knowing how bothered he is by my display of power. I want to laugh at him, giggle at the expression covering his face, but I stay silent except for a little smirk that finds its way onto my features.

"Are you smirking at me?" he deadly asks and immediately the silence falls around us. My expression falls and suddenly, the loud smack of his hand across my rear end interrupts the quietude. I cry out, half from not expecting it and half from the sting of his hand. His eyes hood over, as he gazes back down at me. Another smack follows without a warning. This time I bit my lip to keep from making a sound. "That one was for not following the rules, Anastasia. I expected you to follow them."

I stare back into his eyes, panic-stricken and worried.

"Eyes to the floor," he snaps. Without a second thought, I obey, but suddenly I feel more like a submissive rather than myself. He breathes for a moment, and in an instant, he sinks his index finger deep inside of me. I suppress my moan, knowing that it's exactly what he wants from me.

"Such a needy girl," he admonishes with amusement laced in his voice. "There's only one thing you really want." His finger digs in deeper and I close my eyes, furthering the feeling of it. "Now, tell me, will you follow the rules?" I nod. "You trust me, don't you?" I nod again. "So will you make a sound?" This time, I shake my head. "And you know what will happen if I hear any other noises besides a moan, correct?" I nod diligently. "Wonderful," he breathes.

Surely, his finger swirls around, rubbing against each of my walls. He pulls it out to begin a torturous pumping.

"Do you like to disobey me, Ana?" The question throws me off, as I'm trying to savor the ecstasy coursing through me. I shake my head. "But you do it so often...makes me wonder if you enjoy the punishments of it."

He quickens the pace of his fingers and I thrust my hips forward, forcing more of myself upon his hand. My hands are fisting together, trying to keep my body steady, but I'm quivering eagerly.

"You don't tell me about Georgia," he says as his free hand comes striking across my rear end. I jump forward, but oh, this one didn't hurt...no, it felt...enjoyable...his finger is still buried deep inside of me and the hit only heightened the sensation. I can't help it, a moan just naturally falls from my lips.

I dare my eyes up to see him smirking, steel eyes gazing into me.

"Feels nice?" I manage a wavering nod. "Then remind me when we get home, I have something that will make it feel even better...for now though, I'm improvising." He shoves a second finger inside me and I let out another moan, it's the only thing I can do. I'm at the mercy of his hands and oh, it's a heavenly feeling.

"You went drinking with your friend." _Smack! _I close my eyes moaning.

"You closed your legs on me." _Smack! _A moan escapes me again. "Twice!" _Smack!_

"_Unnhhh_..."

"That smart mouth of yours." _Smack! _"Always disrespecting." _Smack!_

"_Unnhhhhhh_..."

He bends his lips right next to my ear. "And now you've taken away from me something I've taken great pride in. Only I have ever made you come, and now you have denied me that." _Smack! Smack! Smack! _

The hits come in quick succession, all shallow and not as hard, but still painful in quick bursts. They don't feel as pleasurable as they just did...

"Moan!" he commands with another smack on my buttocks. My breath hitches and I can't find it within me to do it. Suddenly, his hand begins rubbing along my backside, right where the pain has gathered the most. Another hit follows down low as his other hand presses into me deeper, all the while shouting, "Moan!"

On command, I let out the loudest and most guttural moan I can manage. My entire body is trembling and I'm finding it difficult to keep myself upright. I'm falling over my once steady feet and I'm straining on the ropes.

"So needy," he says again, rubbing along where he has just hit and pumping his two digits harder and deeper inside of me.

I'm dripping down his hands and down my thighs, my muscles constricting without a thought. "Christian..." I whimper, feeling my muscles fully clench within me.

His hand reels back and another _smack _lands on my behind. "What did I say?" he barks. Immediately, I bit my lip, holding back every emotion that is cascading over me, washing away all my thought and reason. I hear him growl and soon, his lips are over mine and he takes my lower lip between his teeth. His fingers are relentless and I'm panting into his mouth. He bits down on my lip harder and I come that very instant. My body shakes, my knees buckle and I take in the largest breath I can muster to keep from crying out.

My body falls in a heap into Christian's arms, my legs don't have the strength to hold me up and I'm dangling from the rope restraints. "I'm sorry," I murmur into his neck. "I'm sorry I hurt you so much."

I feel his hands reach up and instantly, I fall forward as the rope loosens. I land onto Christian's chest and he sinks to the floor, cradling me in his arms. I don't have the energy to move and I feel like I could pass out from the exhaustion wearing on me.

His gentle lips kiss the top of my head. "You don't need to be sorry, baby. But thank you, Ana. Thank you for giving me that."

He nuzzles his face into my cheek and I think it's the first time I can ever recall him doing that. It wasn't so bad, the more I think about it. The hits could've hurt worse than they did...and he could've made them torturous rather than pleasurable.

"C-can..." I pause mid-breath, testing the water to see his reaction. He doesn't say anything and he doesn't tense in agitation and so I continue, "...I speak n-now?"

"Yes, Anastasia, you may speak now." His fingers begin to trace patterns up and down my arms. "I'm impressed with you. You are truly something and I am lucky to have found you and more than lucky to call you mine."

"I'm yours," I whisper. I don't know if it's the remnants of my ecstasy still weighing on me, but right now I will say anything to keep him like this. This is the Christian I love, this is who I want to spend the rest of my life with. But perhaps in order to have this...I have to have the dark Christian as well. And really, dark Christian doesn't seem all that bad. And who says I can't have a little fun just to rile him up myself? And who says I can't fight for power? Suddenly, I see a whole new world of options in front of me and it's so appealing.

His lips kiss my temple again as he murmurs, "I mean it. Thank you." He shifts and gently stands, helping me to my feet as well. "I think it's time to head home."

"But, Christian," I interrupt and motion toward his still prominent hardness. "What about your...pleasure?"

He gives a small chuckle as his eyes hood over. "Oh, Ana, I've got more planned for home. I'm not quite finished with you yet."

* * *

><p><em>AN: So thanks again for reading this? Should I add another chapter? Would anyone read another one? Ah! The struggle!_


	3. Part 3

_A/N: Hi again. I have decided to make one final installment for this piece. Well, in this I try to rectify the cruel nature of Christian from which I previously showed. I will remind you again that this takes place in Chapter 20 of Book one. So I've kept true to the writing style, with my own additions, and kept everything in character. This piece was supposed to feel like a forgotten part of the book. It was a study of their characters to see how this chapter could be done differently. _

_I'm sorry for some if they didn't like it, but I am happy that some did. Well…perhaps this chapter will be pleasing on both ends? _

_Again, here is where I finish out chapter 20. So I took parts from the original and reworked it. Hope you like it..._

* * *

><p><span>Boathouse Bonds<br>Part 3

* * *

><p>"Don't worry about Taylor. Talk to me."<p>

His voice sounds through to me as we drive away from his parent's house. My rear end is still searing from the sting of his palm, but at least I have my panties back now. I shift a bit, trying to abate my sore behind as best as I can. I shrug to Christian and he notices. Ever since we left his parent's house, I haven't been the same. I've been quiet and reserved ever since we came out of the boathouse.

I was wrong thinking Christian wouldn't pick up on that.

"I only mentioned Georgia because Kate was talking about Barbados - I haven't made up my mind if I'm going to go yet or not." My voice sounds pitiful, but the truth is I'm sorry for all of my actions. I want to scream how sorry I am to him, I want to make him understand. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"Do you want to go and see your mother?" he says, ignoring my apology.

"Yes."

He looks oddly at me, like he's having some internal struggle, like he's trying to figure me out. "Can I come with you?" he asks eventually.

What!? Thank goodness for this cloak of darkness that hides my widened eyes. "Erm...I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"I was hoping for a break from all this..._intensity_ to try and think things through."

He stares at me dumfounded. "I'm too _intense_?"

I chortle and immediately cover my hand with my mouth, trying to hide my sudden laugh. "That's putting it mildly!"

In the light of the passing street lamps, I see his lips quirk up. "Are you laughing at me, Miss Steele?"

"I wouldn't dare, Mr. Grey," I reply with mock seriousness.

He becomes pensive and looks to the ground before he looks back at me. "What do you need to think about in Georgia?"

"Us," I whisper.

He stares at me, impassive. "You said you'd _try _this," he murmurs. "Remember?"

"I know."

"Are you having second thoughts?"

"Possibly."

He shifts as if uncomfortable. "Why?"

Holy crap. How did this suddenly become such an intense and meaningful conversation?But I should tell him the truth, right? I should tell him how he really made me feel in the boathouse? But what do I say? Because I think I love you, and you only see me as a toy. Because I can't touch you, because I'm too frightened to show you any affection in case you flinch or tell me off or worse - beat me? What can I say?

I stare momentarily out of the window. The car is heading back across the bridge. We are both shrouded in the blackness of night, masking our thoughts and feelings, but we don't need the night for that, it's already a staple with us.

"Why, Anastasia?" Christian presses me for an answer.

I shrug, trapped. I don't want to lose him. In spite of all his demands, his need to control, his scary vices. I have never felt as alive as I do now. It's a thrill to be sitting here beside him. He's so unpredictable, sexy, smart, and funny. But the things he does when it's just us. He says he'll think about my reservations, but it still scares me. I close my eyes. What can I say? Deep down I would just like more, more affection, more playful Christian, more..._love_.

He squeezes my hand.

"Talk to me, Anastasia. I don't want to lose you. This last week..." he trails off.

We're coming near to the end of the bridge, and the road is once more bathed in the neon light of the street lamps so his face is intermittently in the light and the dark. And it's such a fitting metaphor. This man, whom I once thought of as a romantic hero - a brave shining white knight, or the dark knight as he said. He's not a hero, he's a man with serious, deep emotional flaws, and he's dragging me into the dark. Can I not guide him into the light? But can I change him? I know deep down you can't change another person, but can't I just show him the light?

"I still want more," I whisper.

"I know," he says. "I'll _try_."

I blink up at him, and he relinquishes my hand and pulls at my chin, releasing my trapped lip.

"For you, Anastasia, I will try." He's radiating sincerity, eyes shining with genuineness.

And it's as if that's all the prompting I need. I unbuckle my seatbelt, reach across, and clamber into his lap, taking him completely by surprise. Wrapping my arms around his head, I kiss him, long and hard, and in a nanosecond, he's responding.

"Stay with me, tonight," he breathes. "If you go away, I won't see you all week. Please."

"Yes," I concede. There is silence again for a mile or two as we stay wrapped against each other.

"You really should wear your seatbelt," Christian whispers disapprovingly into my hair, but he makes no move to shift me from his lap.

I nuzzle up against him, eyes closed, my nose at his throat, drinking in his fragrance, my head on his shoulder. I let my mind drift, and I allow myself to fantasize that he loves me. Deep down, I hope. That's all I can do. Hope.

I'm careful not to touch his chest but just snuggle in his arms as he holds me tightly. But I've still yet to tell him. How do I let him know what I really felt all trussed up - as he put it - in the top room of a boathouse. Do I explain it to him, or do I wait? Do I let these thoughts simmer and tell him later? Or do I say something now?

All too soon, I'm torn from my impossible daydream.

"We're home," Christian murmurs, and it's such a tantalizing sentence, full of so much potential. And there is that hope again.

Home, with Christian.

Taylor opens the door for us, and I thank him shyly, aware that he's been within earshot of our conversation this entire time, but his kind smile is reassuring and gives nothing away. Once out of the car, Christian assesses me critically. Oh no...what have I done now?

"Why don't you have a jacket?" he frowns as he shrugs out of his and drapes it over my shoulders.

Relief washes through me at this kind gesture.

"It's in my new car," I reply sleepily, yawning.

I see him smirk at me through my drowsy eyes. "Tired, Miss Steele?"

"Yes, Mr. Grey." I feel bashful under his teasing scrutiny. Nevertheless I feel an explanation is in order, I feel like I have to tell him. I gather my breath, "I've been prevailed upon in ways I never thought possible today."

"Well, if you do recall me saying, I haven't quite finished with you yet. I may just prevail upon you some more."

Holy Shit... Again?!

I gaze up at him in the elevator frowning and abruptly his gaze darkens. He reaches up and grasps my chin between his three fingers, freeing my lip from between my teeth.

"One day I will fuck you in this elevator, Anastasia, but right now you're tired - so I think we should stick to a bed."

Bending down, he clamps his teeth around my lower lip and pulls gently. I melt against him, and my breathing stops as my insides unfurl with longing. I reciprocate, fastening my teeth over his top lip, teasing him, and he groans. When the elevator doors open, he grabs my hand and tugs me into the foyer, through the double doors, and into the hallway.

"Do you need a drink or anything?"

"No."

"Good. Let's go to bed."

I raise my eyebrows at him and this time, I'm determined to make my feelings clear. I stop as he continues walking and my hand slips from his. "Christian," I begin, knowing I only have a limited opportunity to present my feelings, knowing my courage is slowly slipping away as he turns back and glares at me. "Christian," I try again. "I don't want to."

His eyebrows shoot up and his jaw clenches. "Oh," is all he says, and his expression flattens.

"Well," I try again. "It's not that I don't..._want_ to. It's just...I didn't like it...in the boathouse. I didn't like what you did." I'm gathering my breath, forcing myself to keep speaking even though the words are not coming out right. "I didn't like the way you made me feel."

"But you still came. I thought it was pleasurable for you."

"Can you blame me? Honestly, Christian, if someone is going to finger me like that, then duh, I'm going to come no matter what else you do."

I can see him frown as soon as I mention the word _someone, _almost as if he didn't like the thought of anyone else doing it beside him.

"The last time you..." I force the word from my mouth, "...spanked me, that time in my room, I told you I didn't like it. I still don't like it. I-I don't want you to do it...anymore."

And there, I've said it. I've said everything that I was thinking and suddenly the weight is lifted off my chest.

"Is that what has been bothering you?" he asks, taking a small step toward me. "Is that why you were so quiet after we left the boathouse?"

I nod. "I know I said I would try, but I can't. I felt humiliated. I feel like your sex toy." I shake my head, feeling as if the tears are going to come again. "I don't want that."

His eyes are searching mine, wary and scared all at once. "You're not just a sex toy."

"But you make me feel like I am! And to tell you the truth Christian, I'm scared of you. I'm scared to death of you. I'm afraid to do anything to upset you. I'm afraid that one wrong move and it'll end in beating. I can't even fucking roll my eyes without the fear of getting taken across your knee." I can't help it at this point, all my fears are just spilling out and I can't even close my mouth. My eyes are steadily starting to water, my voice is becoming raspy. "And I can't even describe to you how sorry I am. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Georgia. I'm sorry about Jose. I'm sorry I touched myself. I'm sorry I smirked at you. I'm sorry I didn't follow your rules. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"

It's full blown tears now. But I take a deep breath in his speechlessness.

"I don't want to be some submissive to you. I don't want to constantly worry about screwing up every little thing. But it's confusing. I want you, Christian. I want to be with you. I want to be around you. I _love_ being with you, but how can I do that and constantly live in fear? I don't want to fuck. I just want to make love."

He stills and stares at me blankly as his expression darkens. Oh shit, this doesn't look good.

"Ana, I..." He runs his hands through his hair. Two hands to be more precise. "I thought we did?" he says eventually.

I look away from him, feeling a loose tear wander down my cheek. Hastily, I brush it away before he can see, but I know he already noticed. "But I want more of that," I whisper.

Suddenly, he takes a step toward me, arms outstretched and ready to wrap them around me. I step to the side and see his whole expression drop.

He stands there astonished, looking like a balloon about to burst. Oh no, did I take it too far?

"You said you would consider it," he says again, his voice beginning to crack.

"I _have_ been considering it. But I just don't know right now. Maybe I should just..." I trail off, looking toward the door, looking to see where my escape is. I'm feeling suffocated all of a sudden, all these emotions are too much at once.

"No!" he nearly shouts. "You can't leave. Please don't leave. You said you would stay with me tonight. You can't...you can't just leave..." He's struggling to form a coherent sentence.

I step backwards and his whole body quivers. "I'm sorr -"

"I'll make love to you tonight. I promise. If that's what you want...if it will get you to stay. I promise."

My eyes shift downwards. It's an interesting proposal. It is what I want, but I feel like it doesn't solve ay problems either. "You would really settle for plain old vanilla sex?"

"Anastasia, you are worth more to me than sex. Besides, there is nothing plain or old about vanilla - it's a very intriguing flavor."

Right now, my breath has stopped. That is the closest he has ever come to saying how much I mean to him. Suddenly, my hope returns to my heart and I feel an exhale come. I begin breathing once again.

"Since when?"

"Since last Saturday. Why? Were you hoping for something more exotic?" He quirks an eyebrow, and I see he is trying to be playful again, trying to win me back over. But still, we are avoiding the whole of the argument. I don't want to be a submissive.

"Oh no. I've had enough exotic for one day. Please," I nearly beg as I let him wrap an arm around me. Immediately, his whole demeanor changes, just knowing that I'm staying here with him.

"Sure? We cater for all tastes here - at least thirty-one flavors." He grins at me lasciviously.

"I've noticed," I reply dryly.

He shakes his head. "Come on, Miss Steele, you have a big day tomorrow with your interviews. Let's get to bed."

Once we are inside and he closes the door behind us, he turns to me abruptly. "Hands in the air," he commands.

I oblige, and in one breathtakingly swift move, he removes my dress like a magician, grasping it at the hem and pulling it smoothly and fleetly over my head.

"Ta Da!" he says playfully.

I giggle and applaud politely. He bows gracefully grinning. Why can't he be like this all the time. This is the Christian I want. How can I resist him when he's like this? He places my dress on the lone chair beside his chest of drawers.

"And for your next trick?" I prompt, teasing.

"Oh my dear, Miss Steele. Get into my bed," he growls. "And I'll show you. Are you ready?"

My stomach flips as I take a spot in his bed. "No spanking, right?"

He looks over at me as he begins to undress, removing his jacket and shoes, unbuttoning his shirt. "I really had that in mind for tonight...I had a plan to make it pleasurable for both of us." My eyes double and he sees me shrink back. "But I made a promise to you. We will make love tonight. But will you promise me? Will you try this technique one day in the future?"

"What's the technique?"

He smirks, slipping his shirt off and over my dress on the chair. "That you will find out on that very day in the future."

I pout my lip and he only chuckles. Turning on his heel, he heads for the chest of drawers, pulls out a t-shirt, and throws it at me. I catch it, bemused.

"Put that on and get into bed," he snaps, irritated.

I frown but decide to humor him. Turning my back, I quickly remove my bra, pulling the t-shirt on as hastily as I can to cover my nakedness. I leave my panties on, I haven't worn them for most of the evening.

"I need the bathroom." My voice is a whisper.

He frowns, bemused.

"Now you're asking permission?"

"Err... no."

"Anastasia, you know where the bathroom is. Today, at this point in our strange arrangement, you don't need my permission to use it." He cannot hide his irritation.

I scoot to the bathroom, avoiding his gaze. One there with the door shut, I stare at myself in the over-large mirror, shocked that I still look the same. After all that I've done today, it's still the same ordinary girl gaping back at me. And what the hell are you doing? Are you trying to ruin this relationship? This...whatever sort of relationship it is? Touching is his hard limit. This is who he is, and I'm trying to change that? Too soon, you idiot, he needs to walk before he can run. You are making him mad - think about all that's he's said, all he's conceded. I scowl at my reflection. I need to be able to show him affection - then perhaps he can reciprocate.

I shake my head resigned and grasp Christian's toothbrush. I know I'm rushing him. He's not ready and neither am I. We are balanced on the delicate see-saw, that is our strange arrangement - at different ends, vacillating, and it tips and sways between us. We both need to edge closer to the middle. I just hope neither of us falls off in our attempt to do so. This is all so quick. Maybe I need some more distance. Georgia seems more appealing than ever. As I begin brushing my teeth, he knocks.

"Come in," I splutter through a mouthful of toothpaste.

Christian stands in the doorway, his PJs hanging off his hips - in that way that makes every little cell in my body stand up and take notice. He's bare-chested, and I drink him in like I'm crazed with thirst and he's clear cool mountain spring water. He gazes at me impassively, then smirks and comes to stand beside me. Our eyes lock in the mirror, gray to blue. I finish with his toothbrush, rinse it off, and hand it to him, my look never leaving his. Wordlessly, he takes the toothbrush from me and puts it in his mouth. I smirk back at him, and his eyes are suddenly dancing with humor.

"Do feel free to borrow my toothbrush." His tone is gently mocking.

"Thank you, Sir," I smile sweetly, and I leave, heading back to bed.

A few minutes later he joins me, taking a seat beside me on the bed. "You know this is not how I saw tonight panning out," he mutters petulantly. "But I couldn't be happier right now." His fingers dance over to me, grazing my jawline and slowly bringing my lips to his.

"Hands above your head," he says as he pushes me flat against the bed. This I oblige, I know I cannot demand him to let me touch him tonight. I know that will be too much. Honestly, the fact that I talked him out of spanking me was enough for tonight.

Everything about this is slow and it's beginning to remind me of our first night together, the first time he made love to me. He's kissing me tenderly, slowly inching up the t-shirt over my head. But his kisses are needy, aching with a lustful desire. A crease forms in his brow and I can just see him trying to fight this need, trying to take it slow for me.

His hands tighten around my wrists as he fights his growing urge. I lean up and kiss the top of his head as he lowers to my breasts. I feel him relax as I linger my lips on his head. I pull my hands from his grasp and I see him raise his eyes to me.

"Just your hair," I whisper as I run my slender fingers through his scalp. He calms down, eyes fluttering as he torturously brings my nipple into his mouth, sucking slowly on it. We are like this for a moment, just the two of us, our breaths the only music.

I hear rather see the rip of the foil packet, and then he's on top of me again, legs straddling my hips. He seizes my hands, hoists them over my head, and eases himself onto me, into me, sliding slowly, filling me up to the brim. I groan loudly.

"Oh, baby," he whispers as he moves back, forward, a slow sensual tempo, savoring me, feeling me.

It is the most gentle he has ever been, and it takes no time at all for me to fall over the edge, spiraling into a delicious, violent, exhausting, orgasm. As I clench around him, it ignites his release, and he slides into me, stilling, gasping out my name in desperate wonder.

"A-Ana..."

He's silent and panting as he falls tiredly on top of me, his hands still entwined in mine above my head. His weight presses against me, but I'm too tired myself to even shift him off of me.

Finally, he leans his head back and stares down at me. "I enjoyed that," he says, and then kisses me sweetly.

"Thank you, Christian, thank you for making love to me."

He is silent, and I feel his breath on my chest. "Are you really scared of me?"

The question throws me off, but I formulate an answer. "I'm scared of what you will do, not of you."

"I'm trying," he whispers.

"Me too," I whisper back.

"I think you're better at it than me. You're stronger than me."

I shake my head slowly, exhaustion wearing on me. "No I'm not. It's you whose been dealt the bad cards in life. You are the strong one." I pause for a while, letting the insatiable silence return. "I wish I knew more about your mother, about what you've been through.

He slides out of me and arranges the duvet so we are both snuggled into it. He sighs, slides in beside me, and pulls me into his arms so we are spooning again. He kisses me very softly beside my ear.

"The woman who brought me into this world was a crack-whore, Anastasia. Go to sleep."

He says the words quickly and they fall onto me like a bomb. My eyes go wide and I feel fully awake now. "W-was?" I stutter out.

"She's dead."

"How long?"

He sighs again tiredly. "She died when I was four. I don't really remember her. Carrick has given me some details. I only remember certain things. Please go to sleep."

For now, there is nothing else to do. Christian has given me more tonight than I ever could've dreamed of getting from him. He's made love to me and he's given me information. If anything, I am only confused even more. But I can't help but thinking if it weren't for our lavish excursions in the boathouse, I wouldn't never conveyed my feelings to him. I would've never told him how I felt. We would never have found this bond tonight, this small promise of hope that makes me feel like there is more to him...more to us.

"Goodnight, Christian," I murmur.

"Goodnight, Ana." He gives me one final kiss on the back of my head and I slip into a dazed and exhausted sleep, dreaming of boathouses, ropes, and a four-year-old, gray-eyed boy in a dark and miserable place.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Well, for now, I've got another story planned up my sleeve, but I'm not sure when it would come about. But this was a "fun" little journey to go on. Perhaps I'll see you all again soon! Thanks for everything! Much love!_


End file.
